Rise out of Dark Alleys
by cjb1990
Summary: Voldemort attacked the Potters in '81, and actually died. James and Harry survived the attack to live on. However the world has changed. No longer is it easy to parallel light with good, and dark with evil. In this post-war world creatures and dark-magics struggle to survive the oppression of both the Ministry and the Light. Now the time has come to rise against them;with OC aswell
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So, new story... This post war world just popped into my head and I HAD to write it down. Just like with To Love a Hero, I got this complete rough cut for a storyline in my head when I figured out the universe...

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything of Harry Potter or its characters. That honor befalls the great J.K. Rowling, creator of Potter and everything around it

**Beta**: The amazing Frida, on known as the wonderful writer Kefalion.

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**Summary: **Voldemort attacked the Potters in '81, and actually died. James and Harry survived the attack to live on. However the world has changed. No longer is it easy to parallel light with good, and dark with evil. In this post-war society creatures and dark oriented people struggle to survive the oppression of both the Ministry and the Light. But now, the time has come to rise against this oppression and revolt to claim the rights that inherently belong to every person.

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**6:30 PM August 31st, 1996**

Darkness was slowly falling over the narrow streets and alleyways that made up this rundown part of the city; a neighborhood in the outskirts of London hidden from the mundane population and avoided by the magical as if its inhabitants carried the plague and to them they did.

To them these streets were the setting of horror stories told in whispers late at night as friends lay together in their dormitories, safe and far away from the bitter reality.

For others these streets were hunting grounds; a place to go for a good bit of sport, a place where they could express their longing for violence.

But for those who lived here it simply was home. The only place where there was as much as an ounce of security and safety to be found.

A whistle pierced through the falling night, its tone unmistakable; the message clear for all who heard it. Once this whistle had been the signal of joy and laughter, the signal of a sneaky prank that had been played on unsuspecting wizards. Nowadays it was the warning cry of the Dark Alleys.

The effect the tune had was staggering. The street had despite the hour been bustling with life, now all the people froze as one and everyone hurried along as they tried to make it inside a building where they would find shelter. Once a room was full, the doors were closed, leaving anyone still outside to find for themselves. Mothers cried out of children as they had been separated in the chaos that was the emptying of the streets.

Within a minute the streets were empty, looking depressing in their desolate state. Litter on the ground and dark shadows growing deeper. Nobody was walking down the road anymore, except for a group of three girls. Before the sounding of the whistle the girls had been doing tricks, doing handstands and assorted acrobatic to the cheering of a small audience. They had not managed to get inside and now it was too late.

The threatening torches that were lighting up the white robes of those who carried them had already arrived.

Frightened and desperate the girls clasped each other's hands, trying to find a bit of courage and comfort, but they knew what would happen and that there was no escape for them. They could only pray that it would be over swiftly. They knew that their hopes and prayers were in vain. Those who were captured by the white robes were never granted mercy.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" An amused voice came out from under a white hood.

"I don't know, old friend. But it seems like there are little beasts fouling the streets," another voice answered the first.

"What is the policy nowadays for stray rabid beasts?" The first one continued.

One of the girls let out a small whimper, tears trickling down her face. It only caused the group in white robes to chuckle.

"Eradication," a third voice whispered ominously.

As one, the group pulled out thin, polished, sticks of various woods. The girls tried to back away, the sight of the wands sealing their fates.

It took three hours before the people in the houses couldn't hear them scream anymore.

Dawn brought the people out of their hiding places. The tortured scream of a woman pierced the air. Aletta, one of the beta bitches of the werewolf pack, sank to her knees in front of the blood pools and ripped pieces that once were here beautiful cubs. None of the three had even seen their sixteenth birthday.

Aletta's screams and crying were caught by her alpha. Fenrir Greyback, tall, wide shouldered, with an impressive mane of graying dark blonde hair, made his way to the front of the crowd of onlookers and mourners. He cursed loudly when he saw Aletta screaming in front of the corpses of her children. His highest beta stood next to him with a grim face. The once gentle intelligent man would not be recognized by his former friends. His face had broadened and hardened and the gentle golden eyes were now like stones. Scars littered the once smiling face. He turned to him.

"Get Sotiria," he growled to him. "She is the only one who can snap her out of this state."

The man, wolf, nodded and ran back to where they had come from. He knew he had to hurry if he wanted to catch her before her she went to work. After a confusing route through the back alleys, he came to the small, dingy door. Without knocking he threw it open.

"Sotiria!" He yelled through the one-room flat.

"Remus?" A woman stepped out of the bathroom. It was clear she was about to leave for work. In her free time, she wouldn't be found dead in the white and red provocative outfit. But she was forced to wear the revealing skirt and blouse to work. Her dark red locks fell in waves over her back. Her eyes, the color of blue tourmalines, looked at him inquisitively.

It's Aletta," Remus said heartbroken. Aletta's cubs were the pride and joy of the pack. They had been highly intelligent, and the oldest was only a moon away from her first breeding choice.

Sotiria paled. "The girls?" her voice shook. Remus nodded.

Without another word, Sotiria threw on a heavy coat, concealing her 'uniform'. Together they made their way back to the spot in the main street. The crowd had thickened in the ten minutes it had taken Remus to get her.

Wordlessly the people made way for the duo. The silence the crowd exuded was a harsh contrast with the desperation that could be heard in Aletta's screams and pleas.

Sotiria sank to her knees next to the desolate mother.

"Let," she whispered, grabbing one of the mother's arm with two surprising strong hands. At the contact, the woman turned and buried herself in Sotiria's embrace.

"They killed them, there's nothing left of them. They're gone! I don't even have bodies to bury," were some of the sentences intelligible between her cries and sobs.

Sotiria stared at the pools of blood with a stony mask. Her eyes, the color of the deep ocean, were glittering with fierce anger and the bile of injustice rose in her throat. She closed her eyes to the sight that was so familiar in its horror.

"Let, come on. Let's go to Greyback, okay? Let your pack take care of you," Sotiria mumbled at some point. She was late, very late for work and knew it was going to cost her. The death of the children would be laughed at by her employer, not mourned for.

With some effort she managed to hoist Aletta back on her feet. Slowly they stumbled to the imposing figure that Greyback struck. Remus softly took Aletta in his arms, taking over consoling the bereft bitch of the pack.

Sotiria and Greyback stared at each other for a long time. Greyback seemed reluctant, where Sotiria stood regal and tall. Her heritage was unique, even in a place like this. It gave her authority, not just because of its rarity, but the High Elves were thought to be eradicated centuries ago. The ethereal features of her kind which had been praised in poetry in the days of old, were now the reason for her bringing in gold to the families that desperately needed it.

"This needs to end, alpha," she spoke slowly. Greyback shook his head in frustration. Did she think he didn't think the exact same thing?

"And how do you suppose we do that, Sotiria? We are wandless, defenseless! The wards around this place make it impossible to leave, except if you have a job on the outside like yourself. We are trapped like rats on ship! We must survive, as best we can. There's nothing more to it." Greyback slumped his shoulders in defeat.

A small hand rested on his lower arm. He looked into the face in front of him. The rage and hate that shone through her eyes were awe-inspiring.

"This will end," Sotiria spoke with such conviction, fuelled by anger that for a second Fenrir was swayed to believe her. But the blood still wet and red on the cobblestones forced reality back in his mind.

"No, it won't," the alpha spoke wistfully, slowly turning around and walking to where his pack tried to offer some comfort.

Sotiria looked as he walked away, the once proud werewolf a symbol of their feelings of hopelessness and defeat. With a sigh, she turned the other way to start on her way to work. She snorted to herself, Sotiria last of the regals of the High Elves, working in the dark place called Lustful Beasts. Yes, really she needed to make her way to work.

Fifteen years, fifteen years of fear and horror and exile. It had been rough. Everyone had been ecstatic, or angry, at the death of Voldemort by the hands of a toddler. Harry Potter lost his mother in the attack, but gained the wizarding world their freedom.

If only it had stayed that way. It hadn't been long before the Ministry had started to pass laws and decrees, isolating everything and everyone with dark or creature heritage. It started with small things; they weren't allowed to use the Floo network at certain times, not allowed to apparate at certain places. They had to register with the Ministry – not that Sotiria ever had done so – and they had to register their wands as well.

Then came the harsher laws. They weren't allowed in certain employments, only the lowly jobs were still available to them. They weren't allowed in Gringotts (the goblins immediately began to make house visits and created vaults elsewhere), their vaults were seized. In the end, they were denied the rights of legal representation, carrying wands, and living in places of their own choosing.

Thus Dark Alleys was created. Well, not created, just inhabited. They were dark, rotting, and falling apart. There had been no sewer system there at the time, no plumbing, no market for food, simply nothing. They were herded together and the borders were warded, making it impossible for them to escape.

Of course there was resistance. Sotiria had been a part of it. The vampire clans still evaded the Ministry, but they were hunted down fiercely by the Aurors and by vigilantes. Bringing in fangs to the Ministry gave you a galleon per fang. Of course the lower clans were eradicated, the remnants of them living in the Alleys. In exchange for blood, willingly given, they did their best to protect the inhabitants of the Alleys at night.

The last to be thrown in the Alleys, were the werewolf pack of Greyback and Lupin. There were rumors of another wild pack, living in the woods of Wales, but no names were ever attached to those rumors and the best known wolfs were in Greyback's pack.

Lupin had been a curious wolf back when the ostracizing first began. Now he was one of the fiercest protectors of both the pack and the Alley, a strong wolf ready to defend his claim and position (and never losing such a challenge). But back then he had been a broken-hearted wizard with lycantrophy. He had lost one of his best friends, Lily (Harry's mother), and was betrayed by one of his other close friends all in one night. On top of that, Lily's husband, his good friend James had known that he was a werewolf and despite his position in the Ministry as Lord Potter, father of the Boy-Who-Lived and high-ranking Auror, he did nothing to stop the persecution of creatures and dark wizards, the death of his wife having closed his heart and mind to tolerance and forgiveness.

She could admit that it had been a difficult time for the Potter Lord. He had put his trust in one of his close friends, Peter Pettigrew, only to have him run to Voldemort at the first opportunity. James had been lucky. The Killing Curse had hit not his body, but the ground in front of him. The impact had thrown him into a wall, knocking him unconscious.

Remus and James' other best friend, Sirius Black, had found them. He had been the one to propose Peter as Secret Keeper, offering himself as a diversion. The sight of James lying in the middle of the hallway turned Black's heart into ice. He had woken his friend up and together they had searched the house for James' wife and child. They had found them both in the nursery.

James had broken down upon seeing the corpse of his wife. Sirius couldn't bear to look at her, and searched the room for his godson. He had found him, unconscious. But that was not the only thing he found. Next to the infant lay the body of the Dark Lord. He was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse.

Sirius looked at the boy in his arms. It was his fault that he had lost his mother. He was the one to come up with the brilliant plan to use Pettigrew as the true Secret Keeper. If he hadn't proposed it, he would be the Keeper himself. And he would have died before giving up the Potter's location.

"I'm sorry, pup. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!" Sirius murmured desperately in the boy's hair, blocking out the heart-wrenching screams that his best friend, his brother, let loose upon his loss.

After a while Harry had woken up, bringing Sirius out of his trance of guilt. Looking into those green eyes, Sirius made an Unbreakable Vow to magic herself to always be there for Harry, no matter what happened.

An hour later, the Aurors appeared and Pettigrew became the most wanted man in magical Britain.

During the period after the fall of Voldemort, James had taken his hereditary seat in the Wizengamot. Sirius had stayed in the Auror office, wanting to be as far away as possible form politics. He would later come to regret that decision.

James had turned cold after Lily's funeral, closed off from emotional bonds with anyone, including his own son. Slowly, James began to turn away from his friends. He made small derogatory remarks about Moony, sneered about the Black family. He helped pass the laws through the Wizengamot that made it impossible to live for Remus. Sirius had tried to persuade his friend to look at things the way he used to, to no avail.

Even though the Dark Lord had fallen, the dark families were too powerful still to become the wizarding world's scapegoat, so, in a masterly political maneuver, Bartemius Crouch Sr. had started to proclaim how vampires and werewolves had aligned themselves with Voldemort. From there it spread to everyone with a creature inheritance in them.

Most of the werewolves were either poor, or lived outside of society, and the vampires looked in disdain at the wizarding world. It was the perfect ploy to keep those with power in place.

It had been James himself who issued the arrest warrant for Remus, because he hadn't registered as a werewolf with the Ministry. It had been pure luck that the warrant had crosses Sirius' desk. He had flooed to Remus' house, explaining with trembling knees what was about to happen. Sirius saw no other way; Remus had to flee the world he always had been a part of.

Knowing Remus would need the best protection, he had begged his friend to seek out his sire's pack. The two had made a blood promise; Sirius swore he'd do his all to protect Harry from the cold and cruel man James had become. Remus swore he would not roll over on his belly. He'd fight the Ministry tooth and nail.

It had taken everything for Remus not to break down. He'd never see his cub again, would never have his best friends with him again during a full moon.

His sire, Greyback, welcomed him back in his ranks. Remus had saved his alpha on numerous occasions, solidly winning his place in the pack. The scars that ran vertically over his face were caused by James Potter, as he tried to slice his alpha with a silver sable. Remus had jumped in between, saving Fenrir's neck from being sliced through clean. Though if Remus was honest, it had more to do with the betrayal from his former friend.

But not the entire wizard community had been against them. The Dark families had stood by them, and stood by them still. Having found small holes in the wards that helped them pass in and out of Dark Alleys, they provided as much food and healing as they could. Many of their children had grown up coming in and out of the Alleys.

There was a Light supporter as well; Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts school of Wizardry and Witchcraft. It was the only title he still had. He had, had to step down as both Supreme Mugwump in the International Confederation of Wizards and as Chief Warlock in the Wizengamot. His last vestige was Hogwarts, the school for those who were allowed to carry wands.

The reason he had been so marginalized was that Albus didn't agree with the course the Ministry was taking. He feared for the souls that were eradicated and ostracized. He had tried to persuade both public and politicians not to go through with this line of policy. But it had been in vain. Instead of listening to the once 'leader of the light', he had lost his positions of influence because of it. The Hogwarts curriculum was not established by him but the committee of examiners and the board of governors. He had therefore no say in what the youngster learned in his school.

This was the world Sotiria lived in these days. She was young, especially for her kind. But her mother had died at the hands of Voldemort and her father, former leader of the Elves, had been cut to pieces by the Ministry's executioner after he had killed the head of the Aurors in a fierce duel. The Ministry had no idea that it was the Regal High Elf they executed. Therefore they had no idea of the curse they had cast over wizard society. Sotiria's revenge would come upon them one of these days.

With only forty summers behind her, she still had a long life ahead of her. And her father had taught her one of the most important things; patience, to wait until the times were right to stand up and reclaim your weapons and fight. The wind spirits were telling her that this time was nearly here, nearly.

So it is in these dark and constricted times that we turn to Hogwarts, where the students have just arrived for the Opening Feast. It is on this day that Dean Thomas, formally thought a half-blood wizard, drank the mandatory Revealing Draught in front of the rest of Gryffindor House and the staff. And it is at this feast that for the first time in his life, Harry Potter starts to doubt all that he had been taught in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Here is the first chapter after the prologue. Thank you (all 3) for your kind reviews.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything of Harry Potter, that privilege goes to JK Rowling

**Beta:** Kefalion (THANK YOU SOOO MUCH!)

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The sound of hundreds of carriages cluttering over the cobblestone road up to the castle was overwhelming. All the students from second to seventh year were transported from the train to the castle in this way while the first years walked to the far end of the lake, to take boats over the lake to the castle. Seeing the castle for the first time looming from the rocks hanging over the lake was breathtaking and a perfect way to start their time at Hogwarts.

Once the carriages made it to the front doors, the students quickly hoped out and went to their according halls. Hogwarts had four houses; Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Every house had its own hall, were the students were expected to gather at their arrival. The older students quickly helped second years who didn't know where to go. No one wanted to keep the people in the halls waiting.

In the Testing Halls of the Houses, waited Aurors and hit-wizards with vials for all the students. This procedure has long since become normal, a routine, for the students to do before entering the Great Hall for the Opening feast and Sorting. In the vials were potions designed to detect creature blood.

If you did not react to the potion in the vial, you were free to go on and enjoy another year at Hogwarts and if you did react to the potion… That meant that you had gained a creature inheritance in some way or form, for example by becoming old enough for the inheritance to show, or in the case of werewolves having been bitten since you left at the end of last term and beasts such as that were not allowed at the School not having a place at Hogwarts and upon detection any such individuals would be removed from the vicinity with immediate effect, never to be allowed to return.

Having their child come into a creature inheritance from a long dormant gene in the family lines was the fear of every parent. Especially the very old and prestigious pureblood lines feared this. Many had a wide assortment of creatures in their genealogy and mothers were scared that this ill fate would befall their children.

Slytherin's testing hall, or as they called it amongst themselves '(the) drugging hall', slowly filled up with the students from all the years. Among the highest praised Slytherins were Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini, though their popularity didn't spread to other houses or the community in general.

The three sixth year students were from Dark families. Though Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, had pleaded that he had been Imperioused and won, he was still considered Death Eater and Dark, especially since many believed that he had bribed his way into being considered innocent. Theo was a ward of the Malfoys. His entire family hadn't been able to escape conviction at the Death Eater trials in 1981 and 1982. The Malfoy family had taken him in and Draco and Theo were as close as brothers.

Blaise was their friend since infancy. Everyone, well everyone who knew how to keep his mouth shut, knew that Lady Zabini was a Siren. Blaise had always been in possession of the Siren's song and call, but there was no way that the potion would ever detect it. Everyone in Slytherin was passing along the vials with the aptly named Revealing Draught under the watchful eyes of the aurors.

Those watchful eyes didn't see the small extra vial with dropper that was passed along with it. In it was a special brew, Cobre, or also known as the Concealment Brew. Brewed by their own head of house, professor Snape, it ensured that those with creature inheritances didn't react to the potions in any way.

Blaise quickly counted out three drops of the blue Cobre in his vial and passed the tray along. Knocking it back, he grimaced at the horrible taste. Really, they were forced to drink it at least once a year. Couldn't they at least make it better tasting? Blaise could feel the potion interact with his creature genes in every cell, but outwards he showed nothing. He had compared his feeling of the potion with Draco and Theo, both agreed on the horrid taste but had never felt the wriggling in every fiber that Blaise did.

It took about half an hour until every Slytherin had taken their potion. To the immense displeasure, if they went on the expression on their faces of the Aurors, none of the Slytherins had reacted to the potion. With a last suspicious and ominous look to the students, they were sent on their way into the Great Hall.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were already filled with students. Draco let his eye go through their ranks. He sighed despondently; he already missed three faces at the Ravenclaw table with his first cursory look and one of the Hufflepuffs was missing too.

"How many do you count?" Theo asked Draco in a low tone that didn't carry further than Blaise and the just seated Daphne Greengrass.

"Three Ravens and one Puff," Draco said to him, once again looking over all the faces at the two tables.

"Yeah, the same here." Theo nodded. Daphne leaned over the table.

"Do we know the names and heritance? Da would be so glad to hear who and what was removed from our safe and secure castle." Daphne spoke louder than she had to.

With an approving glint in his eyes, Draco responded. "No, I can't seem to recall their names. Whether I forgot them, because they are obviously unimportant or because of some foul beastly spell I do not know. We can rest assured that we never have to lay eyes on them again."

It was an act, all an act that every Slytherin was taught in their dungeons. The common rooms were still safe, thank Merlin. No, there was no listening in by the Ministry. Draco suspected the headmaster of eaves dropping, but didn't mind. Albus Dumbledore had to know that the Dark and pure families were aiding those in the quarantine zone. And still, no member of any pureblood family had ever been arrested for aiding and abetting beasts.

Under the Ministry's harsh laws, the Light and Dark saw themselves reuniting for a common good. It was mind-bogging if one thought about the twisted ways their world now worked.

Theo let his eyes go down the line of teachers at the High Table. Suddenly, he hissed in a breath between clenched teeth. The other three looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Why is James Potter sitting at the High Table?" He spat the name out as if it was the foulest poison. Draco immediately let his eyes wander to the High Table, counting out the other teachers and searching, searching…

"Merlin," Draco groaned, suppressing the urge to bang his head against the table. "He must be the new Defense teacher."

The Slytherins in their vicinity all groaned at hearing that.

"Well, there is one topic we'll learn for sure this year," Blaise commented rather darkly. At the silent commands of elaborations, he continued. "The topic of betrayal of and by your friends." It was said light heartedly, but the dark fury in the dark eyes belied the lightness of his tone. The other Slytherins chuckled darkly.

A sudden commotion at the entrance doors made every student in the Hall look up. The doors opened with a bang, and with shock they saw two aurors detaining a struggling and fighting Dean Thomas. Tomas was a sixth year Gryffindor. Dark skinned and with long dreads, he was one of the heartthrobs of his year, and a creature as it turned out.

A middle-aged man stepped into the Hall, as the rest of Gryffindor House made its way to their table. The guys searched the faces of those entering. They could see fear, anger, betrayal, shame and indignation. Draco spotted Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and Princeling of James Potter. To Draco's surprise, he seemed genuinely confused. His examination of the Gryffindor students was interrupted by the nasal voice he heard.

"A Dark Elf has been amongst you!"

Draco froze. Elves were rare, extremely rare. He only knew of one Elf left. Not a Dark Elf, but still. There were rumors that Dark Elves were ruthless killers, strong and without a conscience. Of course, those who spoke about those rumors also believed a pigmy puff could bite you…

"He has lured you all into a false sense of security by using his seductive, dark powers, cajoling you all into believing in the illusion of him being a half-blood. But those days are over and he will be removed from our civilized community. The danger will be kept at bay! Excluding him another four students will no longer be with you; the beasts have been found out."

Cheering came from most of the hall, though most of the participants did so reluctantly. Draco had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Mindless bloody sheep, the lot of them!

Blaise leaned over to Draco. "Do you think everyone has obliviated themselves from inheritance knowledge? Thomas turned sixteen this summer; of course he only had been found out now. It must have been a dormant gene."

All of Slytherin was horrified by the actions of the aurors that came next. With a malicious smirk, Nasal Voice conjured a pair of shackles and descended upon Dean Thomas.

"He wouldn't…" Astoria Greengrass whispered horrified.

The screams that came from Dean as the shackles were attached to his wrists pierced the Hall. The teachers at the High Table had trouble keeping their faces blank. The sounds coming from the Gryffindor were like echoes from the First War, when the Torture Curse was not uncommon.

"Black-scale iron dipped in salt," Theo spoke, uncharacteristically bitter. "Bastards."

The Hall was silent as they dragged Dean away. Suddenly the guys could hear a gasp come from Daphne. They all turned to her, shocked to see that tears were gathering in her eyes.

"I just remembered. He once told Granger when I was standing near. His mother is a muggle and his father ran out on her when he found out she was pregnant. He grew up muggle…"

A hand shot to Astoria's mouth in shock. "He couldn't even have known," she murmured in shock. Daphne quickly put her hand on her sister's leg to calm her. Her younger sister tried to stop her sobbing, to no avail. The cruelty of the boy's fate laid heavily on their conscience.

"Don't worry, Astoria," Draco tried to sooth her. "Once in the Dark Alleys, they will know how to fix him up. It's not an easy life there, but he will have a family that doesn't condemn him. They support each other no matter what."

Astoria nodded to the Malfoy heir. She knew that those cast in the zone had each other's backs. But the cruelty and blank fear on Thomas' face seemed hard to forget. She shook her head; she hated all those stupid laws.

This summer had been the first time her mother had allowed her to accompany her and Daphne when they went to the Dark Alleys. The Greengrass women came to the zone immediately after raids. They tried their best to fix up those who were wounded, and supplied a shoulder to cry on for those who lost loved ones.

It had been a wake up call for the young pureblood witch. She had known about the cruelty of the 'white robes', but never in a million years could she have known just how cruel they truly were. She had seen the hardness in the faces of those who lived there. Veelas who normally shone with beauty and health had looked downtrodden and almost nothing of their nature had existed in those women. The leprechauns, once merry and mischievous, were solemn and closed off in their behavior. The werewolves were still tightly together as a pack. But the pride their alpha, the great and strong Fenrir Greyback, once possessed had withered away.

Draco turned back to look at the High Table. Now that the people from the Ministry had left with their catch, the teachers were more open with their expressions. He could see that professor McGonagall had to do her upmost best not to break down in tears. She was the head of Gryffindor house, and behind the stern exterior, he knew, lay the strength and love a lioness had for her cubs. She was also one of the most righteous people he knew.

This must be killing her, he thought to himself.

Dumbledore didn't seem that much affected, but one had only to look at his eyes to know that he was. The infinite twinkle in his eyes had dimmed, until they only showed the sadness that existed behind them.

Snape was sneering, as usual. Draco was his godson and knew the man better than to think that the expression was all it seemed. He knew Snape had been a spy during the war against Voldemort, he had turned coat to protect his childhood friend. It had all been in vain, Lily Potter still died. Snape had never been able to forgive James Potter for her death, and his hate (already large due to the torture he had to endure at Potter's hand during his Hogwarts years) had grown to epic proportions.

Draco tried to look behind Snape's mask and Occlumency shields. There, right at the edge of his eyes the muscles of his face stood taut. Draco knew that Snape, just like his father Lucius, had very tight connections with the Dark Alleys. Nobody outside the circle knew of course. But those in the know knew exactly what the Malfoy family did to ease their suffering. And Snape, well, he had more than close relations with some in the Alleys.

Draco guessed that it was only due to Severus' experiences during his time as a spy that he could contain his hate for the Ministry. Nobody could ever guess what went on in Severus' brain; everyone would think that Severus was sneering because he had to teach a creature for five years. Draco suspected he was sneering because the Ministry once again demonstrated their upmost stupidity.

Draco's eye fell on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; James Potter. He had to actively swallow the bile that rose in his throat when he saw the gleeful, vindictive satisfaction on the man's face. If there was one man he wouldn't mind dead or Kissed, it was James Potter. And the stupid brat he had for a son could go starving for all he cared.

Bitter helplessness rose up in him. He hated the way so many people had to struggle to even make it through alive every day. And now that all the Ministry employees didn't have their offspring at home anymore to distract them, the raids would become every day occurrences, just like it happened every Merlin forsaken year.

Draco looked at his brother Theo. He knew the boy didn't approve of what his family had done, and actually agreed that they belonged in Azkaban. He had been taken in by the Malfoy family and now they couldn't be closer if they had been blood. He knew Theo to be kind, quiet, but firm in his belief, sympathetic and with a listening ear for those who needed it. He also knew that there were forces still within the Ministry who called for his head. It was beyond ridiculous, he been twenty months old when Voldemort fell. How could such an innocent toddler already have been 'tainted by darkness', as they proclaimed?

At the Gryffindor table, the mood was mixed. In the center of the table sat Harry Potter, dumbfounded by shock. He had difficulty believing what just had happened to Dean. He knew Dean, he was fun-loving and prank-addictive not at all dangerous. Yes, he knew Dean to be wicked with a wand. He excelled in both Defense and Charms. But he just couldn't reconcile that image with what Dawlish had described. Had Dean really put the illusion on them all?

Dean had stayed with him for the last two weeks of summer. His father had laughed at the pranks the two of them pulled on him. And now, he was a Dark Elf? He knew of them, had heard his father caution him against all sorts of creatures all his life. What was it he had said? Dark Elves are the most dangerous of elves, assassins in their own right. Known to stick to the shadows and attack unsuspecting, innocent magical folk from behind. But Dean was not at all like that, it wasn't the Dean he knew.

The redhead next to him, caught his attention. A quick glance to his face told enough; Ron was fuming. Harry estimated it would take half a minute more before he would explode in a rant. He was right.

"Can you believe this, Harry? The git!" Ron called out. Harry nodded his head, he didn't believe in what Dawlish had proclaimed either.

"And to think, we have slept in the same dorm with that… that beast! For five bloody years!" Ron continued, oblivious of his best friend's mood.

Harry's heart plummeted, once he realized that Ron's anger was not directed at the hit-wizards and aurors, but at Dean. "But I don't understand, Ron," Harry spoke softly. "Dean wasn't dangerous, or wild, or feral… He was just Dean! The bloke who snuck out of Hogwarts and managed to nick firewhiskey for all of us."

Ron looked at him as if he just proclaimed that he wanted to become a beheaded ghost and join the Headless Hunt. "Are you serious Harry? Of course he wanted to make us believe that. I can't believe I fell for it, and you're still buying it. Just look at your dad, mate. He knows about this stuff!" Ron pointed to the High Table with an indignant finger.

Harry's gaze shifted to his dad. He loved the man, more than anything. He knew his father was always busy with the Ministry, making sure the laws surrounding and protecting their society were still upheld. He had not seen much of him growing up. He always had his uncle Padfoot. Sirius Black came over to Potter Manor as often as possible. Over the years he had taught Harry a lot, about hexes and charms, transfiguration, the noble art of pranking (that, unfortunately was nipped in the bud as soon as he had tried to prank his father), and about how their society worked.

Harry sighed, he could see the look of disgust and mute hate on James' face. This only confused him more. During the last two weeks, James had come to know Dean. And it was only last night when he called Harry into his study. He could clearly recall how he had patted him on the shoulder, praising his ability to pick out good friends. Was Dean really such a bad friend, now he had been outed as a creature? How did that change him from the guy he had known for five years?

Neville Longbottom looked on as the emotions flickered across Harry's face. He forced himself not to react to it outwards. His eyes locked on the Slytherins, however. Most people at Hogwarts thought he had lost his mother during the attack that made his father insane. Bloody Lestrange. Those who worked against the restrictions, or around it, knew better. They knew that Alice Longbottom had been bitten by a werewolf. And she had fled, leaving her only son in the capable hands of the Dowager Longbottom.

He had seen his mother a grand total of two times. Somehow his grandmother knew how to contact her, and had arranged two meetings. One before he first left for Hogwarts, and one only this summer when he had received his OWL results. She didn't look anything like the woman in the pictures of his parents. She had explained that she had joined a pack that was still free. He had felt the love she had for him.

His grandmother had raised him well. True, when he first came to Hogwarts he was awkwardly shy and clumsy. But if there was one thing the old lady had given him, it was a strong sense of justice and a rigid set of morals. He knew that everyone deserved the same chances in life, and not to be constricted based on _what_ they were.

Neville knew Harry did not have that upbringing. Out of all the students at Hogwarts, Harry was probably the most sheltered. His father made sure that Harry had absolutely no contact with anyone who had creature or dark in them, or was suspected to be affiliated with them. This made the sixteen year old as naïve as a newborn. Neville did like the boy, though. He had a sweet heart and endless compassion. He wished that Harry could have been introduced to the reality with a little more gentleness, instead of this rude awakening the deportation of one of his best friends had caused.

A small whimper to his left caught Neville's attention. His stomach fell when he realized it was Seamus. Seamus and Dean had been like brothers. The Irish pyromaniac had bonded with Dean Thomas since they were in the same boat floating over the Black Lake. And now, he was gone. Silently, Neville grasped his shoulder and squeezed almost painfully. It seemed to help him, give him an anchor to reality. No matter how dark that reality may be.

* * *

The door closed as the last participant of this meeting came in. He quickly made his way to the empty chair near the fireplace.

"Ah, Pomona. Are all your students in bed?" The headmaster asked her. She nodded, with a saddened face. Not all of her beds were filled, after all.

"I have all the information possible on Mr. Thomas right here," said the normally unflappable professor McGonagall, her Scottish brogue shaking with suppressed tears.

Silently, both Pomona Sprout and Fillius Flitwick produced leather bound files as well. The stack of them sat innocently in the middle of the table. The five at the table stared at it for an infinite amount of time.

Suddenly Flitwick rose from his seat to pace in front of the fire place. A snarl rose from deep within his chest.

"O, how I wish to take an axe or blade and show them justice, goblin style!" He growled. He, as any of goblin descent, saw children as having to be protected at all costs. It did not matter what race it they belonged to, never would one see a goblin stand by idly if a child was under attack.

"And how do you propose we do that, Filius?" Severus Snape sneered from the darkened corner where he preferred to be seated. "You know just as well as I what those wards are made of. Even if we all take up arms, the Ministry would be capable of mass-murdering everyone in the Dark Alleys with the activation of those dormant wards! Why do you think the free clans, or the wild packs have sequestered themselves instead of waging a covert war!"

Filius looked at the potion master, and head of Slytherin. He nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Snape didn't relent though.

"Or perhaps you want to have your head on a spike, Filius? Merlin knows you should thank him on bended knee for escaping being banished to the Dark Alleys or being forced into the caves under Gringotts. No instead you only have to live in house arrest here at Hogwarts." Snape waved a protest away. "Yes, yes, I know of your prowess in dueling and how you can subdue all your enemies. Fact remains that you are just as much a prisoner as those just removed from this institution!"

Filius looked up, a bitter glint in his eyes. "Don't you think I know this, Severus? Don't you think that I realized long ago the only reason I am still alive is because I have educated all those currently working in the Ministry! The only reason I am still alive is because they know I am the most capable Charms teacher they could hope to have to educate their children. And by Merlin and Golgort the Grinder, I will keep on teaching the students all that I can!"

Silence fell over the people in the room. Dumbledore looked with a remonstrating glint at Severus, before he broke the silence.

"Fawkes has been restless. More restless than usual, I should say." He stroked his beard, seemingly deep in thought. "He did not wish to communicate much of it, but did give me one thing; Curse of a Regal."

Snape looked at Albus fiercely.

"Be reasonable Albus! The only Regals I can come up with, are the Regal High Elves! That line has died out, slaughtered in a war with giants two centuries ago."

"Be that as it may, Severus, it is what Fawkes chose to say about the matter." Albus replied serenely.

Severus stood up and grabbed the files from the table.

"I'll make sure that these end up in the right hands." And without goodbye, he stalked out of the room.

* * *

At dawn, Sotiria made her way back to her small flat. She was exhausted, having been forced to work a double shift to make up for her tardiness. She was greeted by a large Eagle owl. She stroked the breast feathers of the bird, before relieving it of its package.

To her shock she saw five different leather files come out of it, her heart swilled with sadness. Five youngsters, not used to harsh circumstances. This would take hard work.

And despite the trembling in her limbs, and her half-lidded eyes, she went out again. The leaders needed to be notified of the coming arrivals.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So sorry for the long delay with this chapter... Well, I can go on and on about how I was totally usurped by the Olympics and my studies, but I won't. I just say that it took some time to figure stuff out for this chapter and getting the right tone...**

**BETA: Kefalion, also known as Frida has been my rock as my beta (I'm having the urge to stand on a table towards her and start screaming: Oh Captain, My Captain!). She gives me suggestions for wording, checks grammar and my helps me rewrite this at least two times... So THANK YOU!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just my own mind...**

**And now, enjoy read and review!**

**Cjb1990**

* * *

Sotiria looked on closely from a rooftop as a group of 'white robes' came through the main street, towing several bound figures. She stood there, hidden in the shadows, as they dumped them in a heap in the middle of the road. Beside her stood a figure of much shorter stature. Normally, this leprechaun was extraordinarily chipper. Not today though, today his eyes were hard and his mouth a grim line. Her eye fell on a shift in the darkness in the alley to the White Robes' left. She knew the werewolves kept a contingency and were ready to grab them the minute the white robes went out of control.

She herself was readying her magic. She could feel the atmosphere almost crackle with the magic she was calling to her from the air and earth. Her fingertips were bursting with it, almost begging her to unleash it in a blitz fury. But she didn't, she kept her silent watch.

The moment to intervene arrived shortly after. Sotiria saw the White Robes draw their wands. She tensed, coiled to jump down from the roof and attack the bastards. She heard them call out to the kids, taunting them. Once they were sure the scared eyes were upon them, she saw them break the wands. Shocked, she realized that the wands had belonged to the children. They had to watch helplessly as they felt the connection to their wands die. Deep hatred rose in a tidal wave.

"Go," she whispered to the leprechaun. The little man shot out of sight, missing the traditional lantern clutched in his tiny fist. He was to alert the very diverse group of nymphs, Veelas, leprechauns and vampires to be on red alert if things were to go south all of a sudden.

Sotiria could hear the groans of pain the kids uttered and knew it was because of the loss of connection to their wands. She hated them, those White Robes. She hated them with all of her being. Who were they, that they got to decide who had the right to live and who didn't? That was a privilege only for Mother Magic herself. She had created all. How did they dare to judge her creations wanting?

When the first curse was sent towards the kids, she jumped off the roof and landed silently behind the White Robes. Sotiria knew the wolves had seen her jump, and waited for the howling to start. It only took a few seconds, the sound ripping through the oppressing silence. The White Robes stiffened, heads turning in the direction of the ruckus. It was as if they only now realized how deep they had wandered on the road into the Dark Alleys.

Sotiria closed her eyes and centred herself. She felt the deep connections to magic settle in her, just like her father had taught her all those years ago. Unbidden, the image of her father falling under the executioner axe rose behind her closed eyelids. As she forcefully pushed away the memory, her eyes shot open and she released a tidal wave of purely natural magic

"Lato haer Ourdeaul!" She yelled out in the ancient language of her people.

The magic she used, was named Nature Magic by her father. She could still remember the stern and serious expression on his normally cheerful face as he explained to her about this magic.

"_It's all about magic, my child," father had started his __teachings. "Nature is balance, needs that balance. Everything that is part of nature, including is, has to adhere to that balance. For every magical human, there must be the counter, the non__-magical human or as they call them; __muggles._

_Sotiria had scrunched her nose at the derogatory term. As if ordinary humans were worth less because they lacked a gift Mother Magic __gave__ to the magical humans__.__ Just because the path they were to wander was different, didn't mean it was a lesser path. It was the path needed to age the soul._

"_Alike the balances between magical and non-magical, there can be found balance in species. For every High Elf, a Dark Elf is necessary for the continuation of a well-balanced and peaceful existence of the Elves._

_Wizards fail to realize this, thus they extrapolate Dark and Light. They stand opposite one another, instead of working side by side to keep that balance necessary in life." Her father's eyes shifted to a darker shade, one she recognized as the look he got when he foresaw something. _

"_To make sure that the paths continue on their intended course magic can be called upon to redirect them.__ This is Nature Magic. You can use this magic to guide your choices, to bring attention to imbalances__ and__ to nudge morale. But the most explosive of manners to use Nature Magic is to judge. Not everyone can call upon the magic to judge. We Regals, we can call upon the Judgment through our connection with the earth and the air that surrounds us and the old lines of wizard kind have long ago harnessed this Judgment within their family magic." _

_Sotiria, still young and not even considered to be of a fruitful age had looked confused. "But father, how does it Judge? And what happens if they aren't what they are supposed to be? If they have strayed from their path?" _

_Father had chuckled, cradling her face in his large hand. "Magic decides. That is both the beauty and the horror of calling upon it. Mother will decide if they have indeed committed transgression against their higher purpose. She will be judge, jury and executioner. The punishment can be something small, like being forcefully directed back on their designated paths through life, to something so much bigger, losing ones connection to magic or even life," he earnestly continued._

"_But father, how can one dissuade from the path? If we can feel her inside us, whispering to us what to do?" Sotiria still didn't understand how those things could happen. You have to be deaf or stupid not to hear magic's warnings._

"_Like you did you mean, when you stole all the elvinka pie from the kitchens with your magic yesterday?" Father had replied good-humouredly._

_Sotiria had shifted guiltily, she hadn't listened to magic's warnings and the feelings of scolding that act had caused within her._

"_It is because no one hears magic like us." Father sat back, looking deep into her eyes like he wanted to impart something even more important than __a__ lesson about magic. "We Regals, we hear the voice of Mother. This is our blessing, and our heavy responsibility. Not only do we lead all of our Elven brethren. We are the guardians of the path. This comes with sacrifice; we hear the pain of Mother Magic so we are naturally inclined to lessen her burdens and pain. This does mean that we'll never hear the call of a mate. Our lives will always be in the servitude of the magical races, and above all in servitude of Mother Magic. Even kings are servants, Sotiria. You'll do well to remember that. Always." _

She called upon the most explosive Nature Magic. In all her years of listening to the whispers of Mother, she had never been as certain about the course she needed to follow as this night. She could feel Mother Magic almost begging her to call forth Judgment.

She stood back as the torrid winds of the magic caught the White Robes in their web. She felt a vindictive pleasure rise in her that didn't belong to her. She wasn't getting personal satisfaction out of this. The murder of her father called for a more painful death than Judgment even at its harshest gave its victims. It called for prolonged dying, for the ones responsible to be kept on the edge between life and death, only to bring them back again and again to more pain and suffering. It needed to be vindicated with the pain and sweat and blood of those that tortured her brethren.

The wolves entered the scene, their mouths opened and showing off their elongated teeth. Their howls resonated with vengeance. They didn't attack though, satisfied to watch the outcome of Judgment.

Sotiria didn't spare the wolves or the children a single glance, transfixed as she was on the magic that kept the bastards in her grip. She saw the subtle nudges against their minds and souls, felt the outrage at the findings.

The air suddenly felt like it was splitting open. A white torrent of magic came out of nowhere, engulfing the White Robes in its flood. The men screamed out as the powerful flood of took away all that they were. When the light diminished, there were only the empty shells of the men left. They still breathed, but their eyes were empty. Sotiria felt a grim satisfaction that was her own this time.

Magic had found them wanting, clearly. So she had taken away all that was corrupt in her creations; it just so happened that the corruption was not just of their mind, it was also entrenched deep in their souls. Now they were just as much alive as a Dementor's victim was.

She walked forward, her face serene and her eyes glassy as if she was in a trance. The wolves stepped in front of the children, wary of what this trance encompassed. They knew of Judgment, and knew that Sotiria was of High Decent. She could be taken for Magic's purpose. That purpose could be from a thank you to total destruction.

Sotiria stood still in front of the fallen heaps of white fabric. She lifted both her hands above the men. A shimmering, dark golden line appeared on all their robes. It sneaked its way up, looping over itself until the line became writing.

_Matri Magicae Iudicium_

Sotiria stumbled a few steps back and shook her head. Her eyes changed back into their sharp blue glare. The glare fell upon the writing on the robes. By Mother Magic's Judgment, well it couldn't be more fitting.

"It's okay, guys. You can shift back," she called out softly to the wolves who were still standing protectively in front of the dumped children.

The four wolves changed back to their human form and Remus Lupin looked down upon the fallen bastards with a shocked face.

"She is on our side," he managed to utter. "She actually agrees the imbalance is towards a point of death."

"Of course she does," Sotiria answered the shocked man. "I've felt her anger climb as the years have passed, but also her indecision. Now though, the time is nigh. This will be her only warning to the wizards in charge. One she knows they will not heed. Shortly, the time of retribution will be here. And she'll rain down her wrath, until balance is at last restored."

The message seemed to bring a new fierceness out in the wolves. Her eyes fell on Greyback, the alpha. Only a few days ago she had seen his shoulders slump in defeat, the ultimate defeated alpha. Now, with this message from Mother it seemed to bring out the strong werewolf from the years before.

"What are you going to do to us?" a shivering voice asked them. Sotiria looked towards the voice and saw dark eyes looking anxiously at them.

"Heal you, clothe you, teach you, guide you," Lupin answered, not unkindly.

"You're not going to eat us?" the boy continued.

Lupin smiled, showing his teeth, which might have been more intimidating than soothing. "Only if you keep on annoying me," he growled.

Sotiria had a hard time keeping her face blank, as a smile threatened to come through. She decided to take matters into her own hands. These children needed explanations and healing, fast.

"Which one of you is Dean Thomas?" she asked the children lying on the cold cobble stones. The dark boy with dread locks made a whimpering noise. She headed over to him and kneeled next to him. With soft and swift hands she assessed his wounds. Her face turned to stone when she inspected his wrists.

"What happened to your wrist, Dean?" For the life of her, she couldn't keep the fury out of her voice. Dean seemed to shrink back in to himself.

"They shackled me, and it burned. It burned and the burning spread." He whimpered faintly.

"Fol Olgorn!" She exclaimed. Without any warning, she lifted him in a fireman's carry over her shoulder. She gave a quick nod to Fenrir and she was off.

She didn't bother with the fallen tyrants. She knew the nymphs would dump them somewhere away from the Alleys for the Ministry to find. She quickly found her way through a small alley maze until she was in front of her small apartment. She gently put Dean down to open the door and within seconds she had him lain out on her bed.

She quickly made her way to a trunk stowed away in the corner. In it she kept her most precious belongings,most of them were part of the inheritance from her father. His books about balance and the journals of those reigning before him were her source of knowledge. Her father had been killed ten years ago, only ten years into his tutelage. To have a complete education as a High Elf, took thirty years.

At age fifty, a High Elf was considered an adult and got responsibilities among their kind. Sotiria never had that chance. She had been put here as supposedly the last of the High Elves, sort of like a trophy to the wizards. She was not the last of her kind, far from it. This was her best-guarded secret. The Elves had hidden away in places only known to their own kind, waiting for the signs to show the time was right. Sotiria was all for joining her kind, were it not for the insistent denial to that decision that kept nagging her. It had taken a while to learn that it was not her own doubts, but the wish of Mother Magic that pulled on her mind. So, she had let herself be taken to the Dark Alleys instead. For what purpose, she didn't know. But she had to believe there was a reason for it. She just hoped it was one of great importance, not of petty small reasoning.

She located the precious, deep red carafe she was searching for. This carafe held the medicine against Elven poisoning. She knew what had happened to Dean. It had been bad, and she didn't know how long he had been shackled in Blackscale Iron. She examined the boy's wrists once more. The smell that drifted up to her nose made her stomach churn. Those thrice cursed bastards! Not just the Iron, oh no, they had to dip them in salt as well.

She took out a clean linen cloth. The pristine white was in stark contrast with the dingy furniture of her house. She quickly grabbed a dagger from the chest and slid the palm of her hand open. She counted out the nine drops of blood over the white cloth before she swiftly bandaged her hand. She dropped the medicine on the blood spots, watching as the colourless liquid mixed with the deep red of her blood. It spread over the whole cloth until it was completely saturated. She ripped the cloth in two and carefully wrapped his wrists in them.

Dean relaxed a bit and let out a groan of relief. He tried to speak up, to thank her or plead with her, she didn't know. She halted him before he could muster up his strength.

"Sleep, we'll talk after you recover your strength," she whispered to him, pushing him flat on her bed. "Sleep young one. I promise, you are safe within these walls."

Whether he truly felt safe, or just couldn't keep awake any longer, Dean Thomas closed his eyes and let himself drift away into Morpheus' arms. Sotiria watched as his breathing deepened and his body let go of the tension in its muscles. She stood up, making sure not to jostle the lost and hurt boy on her bed. She hoped he would have recovered enough by morning. She knew from the files Severus had sent ahead that Dean didn't know anything about his heritage.

She was careful to close the door soundlessly behind her as she made her way to where Fenrir had taken the young werewolves. The files didn't include whether the three were bitten or born. And if she just looked at the state Dean was in, she feared for the new cubs. Werewolves had a lot more weaknesses than Dark Elves. Though the reaction to Blackscale Iron was intense, the metal was also rare. Werewolves were weakened by silver. You could find silver in even the most scarce potions kit.

She cautiously entered the clearing. She had no intention to intervene with the pack, only to offer extra healing if necessary. Her eyes widened at what she saw. Fenrir had transformed back into his wolf and had his jaws wrapped around one of the boys' necks. From the thunderous look on Remus' face, Sotiria could guess what had happened.

It seemed the boys had not exactly accepted their werewolf status. Insulting their new alpha was a fire sure way to have him lose his patience and subdue them hard-handedly. The boy Fenrir was keeping down was shaking with terror. The other boys tried to scatter away from the wolf, but were kept in their place by the looming figure of Remus standing behind them.

"Subdue, bare your neck, boy," Remus instructed the boy with a deep growl. The boy shook his head, out of fear and outright denial of the situation or out of subordination he didn't know. Fenrir clamped his jaws a bit tighter and Sotiria saw a bit of blood appear on the white skin. She decided she needed to intervene before the situation escalated in a blood bath.

She sighed and stepped forth. If only Dean hadn't been a Dark Elf in need of immediate medical attention. She normally always introduced the new children to the harsh lifestyle the Dark Alleys. She was harsh and blunt, but also understanding of the sheltered and prejudiced life they had lived before they were dumped in here.

"Okay, everyone just take a deep breath and take two steps back." She let some of her magic leak into her voice. As the magical beings that they were they heard her bloodline in her magic and followed her order. Everyone except for Fenrir who still stubbornly tried to subdue the young fool through blunt force.

"Fenrir, that's enough!" she snapped as it became obvious he would not move away from the boy. Fenrir growled a warning and practically curled around the boy. Sotiria wanted to punch something out of exasperation.

"Alpha Greyback, heed my order. You will step back from those cubs." She now allowed her full lineage to bleed into her command. She saw Fenrir try and disobey her, but her calling on his alpha status made it almost impossible not to let her take charge of the situation. Reluctantly and ever so slowly he released the boy's neck from his jaws and took a few steps back. He glowered at Sotiria with resentment.

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Fenrir. If I hadn't shown up, we had three mutilated cubs to bury because you didn't hold your temper and explained what happened to them." She flipped her hair back with an impatient hand gesture. "The one year I can't be there to explain to your newly arrived cubs what the situation is, you manage to completely fuck it up. You're in desperate need of some social skills."

Fenrir changed back in to his human form. He took a few steps towards her, his impressive stature looming over her.

"You have no business with the pack, Regal," he growled. She shot him an unimpressed look.

"Oh, yes. Because clearly you had the situation _completely_ under control," she mocked the werewolf. She side-stepped him and briskly walked to the three boys.

"Stay back, you monster," one of the two that weren't in Fenrir's jaws tried to valiantly warn her.

"Gaia!" she exclaimed. "There's bravery, and then there is complete stupidity, boy!" she snarled at him. "Wake up, boys! If we're the monsters, what does that make you? You are one of us now, whether we like it or not."

She watched as the boy paled as this new reality slowly sunk in to his mind. "But, I was never bitten by one of you!" he exclaimed. Sotiria sank down on her knees before them, trying to be less intimidating. Though she had to admit that would be unlikely, considering what they saw her do to their escorts.

"There are those that are bitten and thereby changed into werewolves. Then there are creature inheritances," she started to explain. "If you are born to a magical line, there is a pretty good chance that there is a werewolf somewhere in your ancestry. Those genes are passed on every generation. In some the genes stay dormant or latent. In others the genes become active as an individual reach their sixteenth or seventeenth birthday, which is the time when your magical connections are permanently anchored in their paths."

She could see the look of shock on the boy's face. Clearly he did have one or two magical parents. And clearly, they had not seen fit to tell their son about the chances of a magical inheritance. She considered it the height of foolishness. The children of such ignorant people would be completely ambushed by the yearly purification of Hogwarts.

She continued to explain how genes could come to the forefront during am inheritance. She could see that even though the boys didn't want to be werewolves they seemed to cautiously accept that they had received a creature inheritance.

"So what will happen now?" the third boy asked desperately. His light blue eyes were darting between the intimidating group of people from underneath his sandy blond fringe.

"Now? Now we will make sure you have not been wounded by those beasts that took you to the Ministry and then here, if you were we will heal you. Come tomorrow, we will start teaching you about the ways of the werewolves, the laws that govern the Dark Alleys and how to respond when the wizards raid. And that will happen, I can assure you. You'll find your own spot in the pack, and your own circle of friends here in Dark Alleys. You look after those that cannot look after themselves, and in return we watch your backs whenever possible."

Sotiria stood up and dusted off her trousers. "I need to go. Dean is in a healing sleep and I would like to keep an eye on him during the night."

Remus spoke up, concern lacing his voice. "What did those leeches do to him?"

Sotiria growled in fierce anger at the reminder of the treatment the Dark Elf had received. "They shackled him." Remus urged her with his eyes to continue. "The shackles were made out of Blackscale Iron, and dipped into salt."

The boy's eyes widened as they heard the entire pack curse loudly and profusely.

"Is, is that bad?" The third boy asked her timidly. Sotiria's eyes softened at the obvious concern the boy expressed. The boy seemed to feel the need to explain. "Dean was always awesome. He helped me with my Ancient Runes homework, even though I was not in Gryffindor. And he played the coolest pranks."

Sotiria chuckled softly at the tone of admiration the boy had. Clearly, Dean had been part of the popular crowd at Hogwarts. She sighed mentally; it would be extra hard on the boy to adjust to life in the Alleys.

"Dean is a Dark Elf. Now, Elves in general don't have many weaknesses. Sure they can be killed through regular means, but they are fast and strong, which means that it is unlikely to happen. Blackscale Iron however, burns the skin of a Dark Elf. If the iron is dipped in salt, it results in burning through the skin into the bloodstream. It poisons the entire body." Sotiria saw the boy blanch at that. "But I have healed him and right now, he just needs lots of rest. Tomorrow I will cleanse him more thoroughly. Do not worry, young cub, Dean will be just fine."

The boy exhaled in relief. Sotiria saw the other two also slump slightly in relief as well. It seemed the timid, shy boy was not the only one worried about Thomas' fate.

A soft whoosh made her turn around. She recognized Etna, one of the leaders of the nymphs in the Dark Alleys. She knew what this was about. They needed her help dumping the white robes. She nodded curtly at Etna.

"Take it easy, and listen to your alpha boys. He only has your best interest at heart, even though he is a bit grumpy in showing it." Fenrir growled at those words, causing Sotiria to chuckle. "See? Grumpy." And with a wink to the boys, she followed after Etna.

They walked through the dark streets in silence. No words were necessary to convey the urgency of their task. At the heap of white robes, three others were waiting for them. One of the figures handed Sotiria a dark cloak. She quickly donned it and grabbed the heaviest of the bodies. The others copied her movements.

Burdened with their load, they moved slowly. They made their way from shadow to shadow, until they came to the edge of the wards. Sotiria dropped her load uncaringly. She walked forward to the wards ever so slowly and carefully expanded her individual magic. She felt the mental bump when she hit the wards with her magic. Calling upon the earth in which the wards were anchored, she let her magic infuse with that of the wards.

She continued the process, until her magic had almost completely merged with the wards. Ever so slowly she started to create a magicless hole in the middle of her own magic, which created a hole in the wards as well. When the hole was large enough for them, she nodded curtly to the rest. One by one, they passed through the wards, with no one the wiser. When the rest passed through, she let the hole collapse. Making sure her magic remained infused in the wards, she picked up her own load again and walked on quickly. As she walked on she pulled her magic back in to herself, separating it once more from the wards.

This was the reason that the nymphs were chosen for this task. Their magic was rooted in nature, and as the wards were anchored in the earth, their magic was less likely to cause a hostile reaction from the wards and alert the wizards to what they were doing.

With a quick agreeing nod, the nymphs slowly diffused. Sotiria called upon the magic of light, letting it transport her to an alley close to the Ministry building. She waited for a minute and the nymphs appeared as well. They walked even slower, ever keeping to the shadows. It only took them five minutes, even with their snail pace, to reach the visitor's entrance of the Ministry. Sotiria tried to let her awareness drift away form her, but magic nudged her to hurry up.

Without any further surveillance, she took the last distance to the red phone booth with a run. The nymphs followed behind her immediately. Sotiria dumped her guy in the corner of the booth and dialled 6-2-4-4-2. A cool feminine voice breached the silence in which she laboured.

"Ministry of Magic, state your purpose," the voice called.

"Anonymous, delivering a surprise present to the Ministry," Sotiria called out in reply and stepped out of the booth, holding the door open for the nymphs. At her beckoning they dropped their loads in a heap inside the booth. Sotiria closed the door and they watched with grim satisfaction as the phone booth slowly sank through the ground and out of sight.

Not needing any encouragement everyone faded away back to the end of the wards. Once again Sotiria created a hole in the wards and within the minute they all were back in the safety of the Dark Alleys.

Come morning, the Ministry would find their torturers. Come morning, the first stone will be thrown. They would wait, see what their enemy would do to reciprocate. They were ready.

Sotiria slowly walked back to her home. She knew it was time and she lifted her head and gazed at the stars. Sure enough, the red light of Mars was shining bright in the heavens. Very close to it was the blue-white light of Jupiter. War would cause the leaders to be shaken. The time of change was upon them, may Mother Magic help them all.


End file.
